


it's alright, just wait and see

by myillusionsgone



Series: said, "i'm fine," but it wasn't true [2]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Pre-Canon, Tea Time with Porlyusica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myillusionsgone/pseuds/myillusionsgone
Summary: She may be immune to the Flower Curse, but this does not mean she has never seen it. — Porlyusica
Relationships: Gildarts Clive & Porlyusica, Ivan Dreyar & Porlyusica, mentions of Gildarts Clive/Cornelia Alberona
Series: said, "i'm fine," but it wasn't true [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623238
Kudos: 6





	it's alright, just wait and see

Throughout her life, throughout her career as a healer, Porlyusica had often been the first the mages of her former guild had come to when they had started to show the symptoms of those afflicted by the curse. They had come to her for aid, unaware that she alone could not be touched by the curse for she was not of this world. Her initial unfamiliarity with the curse had long become nothing but a faint memory; after fifty years of life in Earthland, she knew the curse fairly well, had seen all possible fallouts.

There was not much she could do — it was a curse, not an illness, and she was a  _ healer _ , not someone who dealt in curses. Still, she did what she could, made potions and gathered herbs for teas and inhalations alike to suppress symptoms and to slow down the process. She was in the business of stealing time for her patients, time they needed to come to terms with how they felt, and she was glad to be able to do something for them, standing between them and a bored god. 

For the most part, her patients were the young mages who were quiet and almost embarrassed when they came to her, as if they were expecting coldness and judgement from her, as if they thought she would snap at them for wasting her time when really, the only thing that made her want to groan was how often they waited almost too long, only coming into the forest when the curse had them on the ropes already.

And so she stared owlishly at the massive silhouette of Gildarts Clive when he stood in her door, looking more like the boy she had once caught with his hand in the cookie jar than the famous mage he had become since. Once, she had known Gildarts fairly well. He had been her son's best friend, they had been inseparable and she had been thankful,  _ so very thankful _ for this. Ivan was precious to her and it had calmed her soul to see him make a friend after all the years of keeping to himself. But Gildarts had disappeared from her life, just when Ivan had started to slip through her fingers as well, and she had stumbled farther into her self-imposed exile.

“Let me guess,” she said with a sigh as she stepped aside and mentioned for him to follow her into her living room, “you aren't visiting because you were in the neighbourhood, are you?”

He had to be in his forties, now, but he still looked like the too tall teenage boy Ivan had dragged to her house so many times to make sure he got  _ proper healing _ as opposed to chugging a store bought potion and calling it a day. Perhaps it was in how he shifted his weight, his usual confidence gone, and how he refused to meet her gaze. “Madam Styrne,” he started, pretending to be utterly fascinated by herbs that were drying on her windowsill, “it's always a pleasure to see you well.”

She scoffed as she pointed towards a couch, almost tempted to roll her eyes. “Formalities don't suit you, Gildarts, and they don’t suit me either,” she said dryly as she turned towards the cupboard to fetch him a cup and a saucer before recalling that somewhere, she should still have his old mug.

“Porlyusica, then,” he said as he sat, his hands twitching against the armrest. “Hate to bother you, but—”

“ _ Sica _ suffices,” she interrupted as she handed him is tea (she had been right, she did still have his mug) and sat down on the other side of the table, red eyes resting on him as she wondered what had led him to seek her out for the first time in so many years. Biting into a cookie, she angled her head. “Pardon my interruption, that was rude of me.”

He mumbled something into his beard, unable to meet her eyes, and she sighed. “Gildarts,” she said patiently as she reached for another cookie, “I've been doing this job for about forty years now, believe me — as far as embarrassing health conditions go, it's difficult to shock me.”

For a long moment, she almost feared that he would bolt and that she would have to find him in the forest. It would be annoying, but she knew the woods surrounding her home better than anyone else did. “Flower curse,” he said, quietly.

_ “Huh,” _ she said as she sat back. As she had said, it did not shock her,  _ per se _ , but it did come as a genuine surprise. It should not, she knew that. As the years had passed, one thing had become abundantly clear, and this was that the curse was almost glad for every person it could take root in. It would not shy away from Gildarts, just because he was one of the most powerful mages she knew.

The smile Gildarts cracked was frail and he slowly shook his head. “Sometimes, I forget that you’re Ivan's mum,” he muttered, “but you sure know how to remind me.”

Rolling up her sleeves, she sighed softly. “He wouldn’t want to hear that,” she said as she looked towards the shelf where she kept all the notes she had ever taken, careful to avoid the man’s gaze. Ivan was a complicated topic for her, but it was an even harder topic for Gildarts. In all years that had passed since Ivan had slipped away, they had never discussed him, just like she had never brought up the Crash mage when Ivan had visited her. There were some things between here and Edolas that were not done stinging yet.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Gildarts agreed softly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “So, um — I went to see a healer when it first started, and I got . . . treatment. It was fine, for a bit, but now . . .”

She grimaced as her eyes narrowed. Foolish boy. He knew  _ exactly _ what she thought about the so-called treatment some of her colleagues offered to the desperate, had heard her call it a dangerous thing while he had been sitting on the very couch he was sitting on now, eating cookies and drinking hot chocolate while Ivan rolled his eyes.  _ “Gildarts,” _ she said quietly, “you reckless child.”

He tried to laugh, but it quickly turned into a cough and she reached for an empty bowl, silently passing it to him. “Let it all out,” she said softly as she stood up and crossed the room, gently resting her hand on his shaking shoulders.

The first time she had seen this, she had been taken aback. It had been one thing to hear about it, it was entirely different to see it with her own eyes. Back then, it had been Bob (whom she had not seen in far too long, she would have to visit him soon), and she had been so damn frustrated that she had not been able to do anything to help him. So many years later, she knew what to do, but there was still a spark of fascination inside of her. Living in forest with squirrels and birds as company had done many things to her, but it had never robbed her of the instincts of a scholar, of a researcher.

Gildarts was not the first patient she had ever seen cough up alstroemeria petals — it was not as uncommon for mages of Fairy Tail as it was in other places from what she could tell, but it somehow made her sad. She was fond of Gildarts, something that was _not_ connected to how many times he had helped her in the garden once, and she was grateful for the friendship he had shared with her son, even if it had found such a terrible end.

(Many stories found sad ends in their guild, she thought, remembering Rob.)

Gildarts' cough subsided and Porlyusica breathed easier as well, her hand stilling slowly. “I will need some hours to make you a potion,” the healer said softly as she stepped back. “And I insist on a full checkup, just to make sure there's nothing hiding under the curse. And . . . I’ll have to ask you some questions of the personal variant.”

Gildarts did not reply, only stared at his hands and sighed quietly. For a terrible, terrible moment, she feared that his silence meant that he was considering to run, that he would shun her aid because it came with conditions, posed on them both by the fact that she was a healer who had actually sworn medical oaths. Then, he lowered his head further and groaned. “Yes, mum,” he said dutifully and she swatted his shoulder gently. “I'll be a good kid and follow your enlightened advice.”

“Keep this up and I'll cut your dinner for you,  _ kid _ ,” she responded darkly as she shook her head at him. “Now, Gildarts — let's keep this short: how long have you been throwing up flowers?”

He lifted his hand, intently staring at his fingers. “Hm,” he mused as he wiggled his digits and then looked at her. “It first started nine years or so ago?”

If she could liquify and bottle up the glare she threw him, she would be able to cure the curse for there was nothing that would not wither under her stare. “Gildarts,” she scolded, “you should've come  _ much _ earlier. Nine years — it's a miracle you are still alive, not to mention that you're still on your feet. What the hell were you thinking, not coming to me earlier?”

He shuddered and she reached for his forehead the way she had so many times before, checking his temperature. She was a healer, she could not slip out of her skin, and she was a mother, a skin she could also never shed.

“My wife . . . left me,” he said slowly as if he was trying out how the words felt on his tongue before speaking them out loud, and Porlyusica flinched. Out of all the possible explanations he could have given her, this was not what she had expected, having not even known that he had been married in the first place. Absentmindedly, she wondered if Ivan had known — as much as her son  _ claimed _ to hate his one-time best friend, she was certain that he valued being informed about everything too much not to keep an eye and an ear open.

When she had gotten up this morning, she had thought it would be a perfectly normal day for her standards. She had planned on planting some new herbs in her garden now that spring was coming, she had considered to read in the sun afterwards. She had not expected that Gildarts Clive would drift into her living room in the same way he would have twenty years ago, confiding in her like he had never before because back then, he would have told Ivan.

“Tell me everything,” she said, turning on the stove for another kettle of hot water. “Start from the beginning.”


End file.
